<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The First Time We Met by Reis_Asher</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361458">The First Time We Met</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher'>Reis_Asher</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Compliant, During Canon, First Meetings, Happy Ending, M/M, Meet Kamski Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Non-Explicit Sex, Partners Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Canon, Public Enemy Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), Romance, Temporary Character Death, The Hostage Chapter (Detroit: Become Human)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:34:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people believe Hank and Connor met the night of Partners, when Connor went to find Hank at Jimmy's Bar. But what if they'd met before that, in a rooftop garden where a hostage situation had just taken place...?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>134</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The First Time We Met</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Notes: More plot/romance than anything, there's no explicit sex scene, just post-coital cuddling and confession at the end.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Jesus Christ." Glass crunched beneath Hank's shoes like gravel as he walked into the ruined apartment. The SWAT team was standing down. Captain Allen gave Hank a stare down as he entered the living room. If looks could kill, Hank would have been struck down. He turned his gaze to the ground and saw blood streaks across the wooden flooring. The coroner was looking under a white sheet, and Hank caught a glimpse of a familiar face for just a moment. It was enough for him to recognize Officer Deckart, and he bit his lip. One of his own was dead, possibly more. He looked around. A civilian, too.</p>
<p>"What took you so fucking long, Lieutenant?" Allen was usually cool, but not tonight. Hank knew he deserved every ounce of the man's hatred. The French doors leading out to the patio slid open and EMTs passed through with another corpse on a gurney. Hank thought about looking under the sheet, but he didn't want to find out this way. He could read it in the report later.</p>
<p>"Fuck. How many?" Hank asked.</p>
<p>"Shouldn't you know that? They're your men." Allen crossed his arms. "Deckart. Jones. Wilson's in the hospital. Dunno if he'll pull through. One of my men is down, too, but they say he'll probably live."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry." It sounded lame coming from Hank's lips and he knew it. He thought of a dozen excuses as to his whereabouts, but there were no good ones. No believable ones. Allen knew he'd been at Jimmy's Bar. They all knew it. The second he said it out loud, he'd be suspended for drinking on duty. "I heard CyberLife sent an android negotiator. How'd that go?"</p>
<p>"Pfft." The derisive breath Allen pushed through his lips spoke a thousand words. "Go see for yourself." He gestured to the patio doors. "The girl's safe. At least it wasn't all for nothing." No thanks to you, came the unspoken accusation, but chances were Allen didn't want to risk being written up for insubordination. No, actually Fowler would probably let it slide, given the circumstances. It was Allen's own sense of professionalism that kept his tongue from flapping, and that made Hank feel even worse. He reeked of alcohol and he knew it, the buzz still floating around his brain and making the crime scene seem even more surreal than it already was.</p>
<p>Wanting to escape the unpleasantries, Hank walked past a child's shoe and opened the sliding door. A strong breeze blew his hair in his face and he pushed it aside, annoyed at the reminder that he wasn't taking care of himself. The rooftop garden was full of crime scene investigators taking photos for the file. Not that it really mattered. Nobody would ever stand trial. The perpetrator was dead, if a deactivated android even counted. The swimming pool was stained red with human blood, and more investigators were gathered around a blood stain over by the doors.</p>
<p>Blue blood caught his eye. Hank walked to the edge of the rooftop to see an android down on all fours. Thirium trickled down its face. From its stance, it was clear that it had attempted to save the girl and been shot in the back by the deviant. Hank knelt down beside it, lifting the android's head. He was struck by the machine's pretty face, features chiseled by an artisan. He stroked its cheek with his thumb, cupping its chin and wiping away some of the blue blood. Nobody seemed to care about it, but of course, why would they? A piece of equipment had served its purpose. Saved the girl. Protected a human life.</p>
<p>If he'd arrived sooner, maybe it wouldn't have come to this.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Hank did a double-take. He'd been busy minding his own business (and his whiskey) before this stranger had arrived, and this unwanted—</p>
<p>"My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife."</p>
<p><i>That face.</i> It was the android from the rooftop, only walking and talking like nothing had happened. Hank quickly looked down at his glass. He didn't want to be reminded about the night his drinking had caused the death of two officers. The official investigation had cleared him, stating that the deviant perpetrator was the only one to blame for the incident. If he'd had any sense, he would have let the incident scare him sober, but that had lasted all of two weeks. He'd tried to stop drinking, but the added guilt on top of his son's death made failure inevitable.</p>
<p>"What do you want?" Hank knew what it wanted. He'd been assigned a babysitter. Fowler no longer trusted him. It was a fair assessment, but it stung all the same. He could still see this boy on the rooftop, bent over on all fours with a bullet hole in its back. Would it take a bullet for his worthless ass, too? Would it complete an assessment and decide that his drunken, suicidal human life was worth protecting over whatever semblance of sentience it possessed?</p>
<p>Hank sighed. It didn't possess any. It was a machine, no matter how pretty they made it. It hadn't displayed empathy on that rooftop by saving the girl. It had just completed its objective by any means necessary, and would do the same again if ordered. CyberLife could just send a replacement if they wanted. Hank could probably fill up a warehouse with broken Connors, blue blood dripping out of them.</p>
<p>"So just be a good little robot and get the fuck outta here." Hank shooed Connor away, disquieted by the thought that he might be responsible for destroying more than one of these. His guts curdled, and he told himself it was the alcohol and not the mental image of those soft, pleasing brown eyes being wrenched from their sockets.</p>
<p>It was fucked up to be haunted by someone who wasn't dead, because they'd never been alive in the first place.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>It was an inevitability Hank had been aware of since that fateful encounter in the bar, and as he pushed Connor's body off him in the Stratford Tower hallway, grief tore through his soul like he was losing someone dear all over again. He stood up and looked down at Connor's still form, jacket torn and stained with blue blood. Not deactivated. <i>Dead.</i></p>
<p>"Connor…"</p>
<p>He knelt down and cradled the precious android—now riddled with bullets—in his arms. He'd kept the boy safe until now. He'd done everything to shield him from harm to make up for the incident on the rooftop, but he'd failed. Connor had died to save him. He'd seemed so alive, and yet, he'd still considered his life an acceptable sacrifice, as if he was just another piece of equipment.</p>
<p>It took several officers to wrest Connor's body from his arms. He was aware of the fact that there were human casualties. He should have cared about them, but he was numb to that. He'd broken his unspoken promise to keep Connor safe.</p>
<p>His mouth fell open when he pulled up to Kamski's house to see Connor standing before his car, unharmed and untouched. He shut the engine off, taking a few moments to consider what this meant. Would could it mean? Connor was an android. This was a new version—same body, but none of the memories, right?</p>
<p>Connor had recalled the incident on the rooftop, though. He'd recounted it to Hank as if he was unfamiliar with the case, and Hank realized there was no way Connor could know he'd been involved. He'd already been dead by the time Hank showed up. Maybe there was a chance Connor would remember him, but… no. He didn't dare to hope for such a thing.</p>
<p>He opened the car door and shut it carefully, cautiously.</p>
<p>"Jesus Christ," Hank muttered, almost reverently. It was a miracle right before his eyes, and yet it hurt. Cole hadn't been able to come back, no matter how much he'd beseeched God to bring his boy back to him.</p>
<p>Connor's response was as chilly as the November air. "My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed, but CyberLife transferred its memory and sent me to replace it."</p>
<p>"You died in my arms… and now you're… back here as if nothing happened… Fuck you." Hank didn't mean it, but Connor's cold introduction had provoked him. This was madness. He'd seen the boy die, cradled his body close to his knowing it was the end. He'd grieved for Connor, and yet here Connor was, claiming to have the same memories as the Connor he'd known. Claiming, and yet stating the facts like a detached third party. He'd read police reports with more flavor.</p>
<p>Only time would tell if this android still held Connor's spark. </p>
<p>What would it mean if he did? If his Connor was alive and by his side again? Hank pushed down the hope that bloomed inside him and concentrated on the task before him. His phone rang, providing a welcome distraction from the thoughts inside his head. Chris was safe. Markus had protected him. It seemed more and more likely that there was something to the concept of deviants being alive.</p>
<p>Connor's eyes filled with warmth as Hank delivered the news, and he knew that the Connor he knew was alive and well in there somewhere, no matter what preprogrammed lines he spat out. He breathed out a sigh that froze in the cold air and walked up to the front door.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>"Connor," Hank whispered.</p>
<p>The revolution was over. Deviants had won. They'd kissed in front of Chicken Feed, something that surprised Hank more than he'd realized. He'd taken Connor home with him and they'd made long, slow love between the sheets. Connor lay in his arms afterwards, head resting on the platinum hair covering his chest like it was the softest feather pillow in the world.</p>
<p>"Yes?"</p>
<p>"I've… I've got a confession to make," Hank blurted out.</p>
<p>"Go on." Connor looked up at Hank, his brown eyes wide and inviting in the low light. His LED swirled yellow, processing the scene in front of him.</p>
<p>"Jimmy's Bar wasn't the first time we met, Connor. I was… late gettin' to the rooftop after the the August hostage situation, but I was there."</p>
<p>Connor closed his eyes, a thin smile crossing his face. "I know. I wasn't sure if you remembered."</p>
<p>"How could you know? You were—"</p>
<p>"I was damaged beyond repair, but my systems had not fully shut down. I couldn't speak or move, but I was aware of my impending death. I was scared. Everybody walked past me like I was a piece of broken lawn furniture, but you noticed me. You came over to me and touched my face, like I was a dead human that should be treated with respect, and I—I wasn't afraid any more." Connor closed his eyes, but Hank caught sight of the tears welling in them.</p>
<p>Hank drew in a sharp breath. "Connor…"</p>
<p>"I know the next time I die, it'll be for real. There are no more RK800 models. No CyberLife to upload my memories to. I should be scared, but I'm not. I know you're there with me, Hank. Like you've always been with me."</p>
<p>"Always," Hank whispered. "Come 'ere." Connor moved up to capture his lips, and Hank kissed back, grateful that against all the odds, it had somehow turned out this way.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>